Chapter 6: Hollow Authority

Dr. Rachel Renworth watched Sean Nolan settle into the leather chair across from her, his broad frame folding into it with the practiced ease of a man accustomed to commanding space. He crossed one ankle over his knee, fingers drumming against the armrest—jittery, but deliberate. His green eyes flicked to her notepad, then away, a smirk playing at his lips. Feigned confidence, she noted, scribbling the observation. The scent of whiskey clung to him, faint but unmistakable beneath citrus cologne.

“Sean,” she began, tapping her pen against the page. “You seem ... lighter. Are the arrangements at Ohana still satisfying?”

His jaw tightened—just a fraction—before he shrugged. “Models know what they want. I give it to them.”

Renworth arched a brow. “And Diane’s permission? Does that still ... fulfill you?”

Sean’s laugh was a sharp bark. “Christ, Doc. You act like I’m some cuckold begging for scraps.” His knuckles whitened around the armrest. “She wanted this. I’m not the one who—” He cut himself off, nostrils flaring.

Renworth leaned forward, voice dropping to a murmur. “Abandoned your role?”

Sean’s mask cracked. For a heartbeat, raw fury flashed in his eyes—then it was gone, buried beneath a sneer. “Please. The kids don’t need me playing therapist when they’ve got you.” He gestured loosely at the room. “And Diane? She’s got better options.” The last word dripped with venom, but his throat bobbed—hunger, not hate.

Renworth tilted her head, tapping her pen slowly against her notepad. “Better how?” she murmured, letting the silence stretch until Sean shifted uncomfortably.

The whiskey-flush darkened his neck. “Jesus, Doc.” His fingers clenched into fists. “Don’t play dumb. You know—the way he looks at her. The way she shivers when he walks by.” His lips curled. “He’s probably already fucking all of them—Bree, Hailey, even fucking Samantha—”

“Sean.” Renworth’s voice snapped like a whip, though her pulse kicked at his words—seed planted. “Devin isn’t violating your family,” she continued, softer, almost amused. “He’s simply providing the tactile comfort you withdrew.” She arched a brow. “Would you prefer they all crumble from lack of touch?”

A muscle twitched in Sean’s jaw. “Hugs,” he spat. “Right.”

Renworth leaned back, smoothing her skirt. “Yes, hugs. Softness. Care.” She let the word linger—yet unspoken but coiled in her gut like smoke. “Unless you’d like to confess why your mind defaults to the... sordid?”

Sean’s laugh was brittle. “Fuck you.”

“Not my specialty.” Renworth’s smile was glacial. Sean flinched—bullseye—and she pressed on, merciless. “Tell me, Sean—when’s the last time Diane arched under your touch?”

Silence. His gaze dropped to his hands—calloused, trembling—and Renworth exhaled, victorious. The seed had roots now.

She glanced at the clock. “Next session,” she murmured, scribbling a note. “Bring Diane.”

The door opened precisely seventeen minutes late—calculated, Renworth noted—revealing Diane and Brianna in separate breaths of air, as if they’d arrived from different worlds. Diane’s heels clicked with clipped precision, her blouse buttoned to the throat, while Brianna slouched in beside her, smelling of sunscreen and lavender. Their shoulders didn’t brush.

Renworth’s pen hovered over her notebook. Phase Four: Isolation Confirmed. Sean’s absence was a punctuation mark. Diane settled into the chair farthest from Brianna, her fingers twisting the wedding band she hadn’t yet removed—ritual, not rebellion. Brianna sprawled on the couch, one leg bouncing, her gaze flicking to her mother’s mouth then away. The doctor’s pulse thrummed. Perfect.

“Migraines,” Renworth began, flipping a page in her notes—fabricated, but thorough. “Diane, Brianna mentioned practicing the breath-sharing technique. Have you noticed improvement?”

Diane’s knuckles whitened. “She—we tried it once.” A pause. Brianna’s tongue darted over her lip. Guilty. Diane exhaled sharply. “It was ... intimate.”

Renworth’s pen scratched. Intimate. Not uncomfortable. Progress. “Breath is life,” she murmured. “Suppressing its exchange suppresses relief.” She tilted her head. “Brianna, demonstrate.”

The girl stiffened—script deviation—but slid to her knees before Diane, hands hovering. Diane recoiled, then forced herself still. Brianna leaned in, her breath shallow. Their lips brushed—chaste, dry—before Diane jerked back, shuddering.

Renworth’s throat tightened. Too fast. She softened her voice. “Diane, describe the sensation.”

“Wet.” Diane wiped her mouth. “Too warm.”

Brianna flushed, but Renworth smiled. Wet is arousal. Warm is memory. “Next time,” she said, “hold for ten seconds. Count aloud.” Diane’s eyes snapped to hers—betrayal—but the doctor held her gaze. “Trust the process.”

Brianna’s fingers curled into fists. Wanting.

Renworth’s stretch goal glimmered—tongue, trembling, taste—but she capped her pen. Patience. The real victory was Diane’s silence. She hadn’t said no.

Dr. Rachel Renworth smoothed her blouse, fingers lingering over the atomizer tucked beneath it—three clicks to 3/8. The scent of cedar-copper unfurled invisibly. She exhaled, voice honeyed. “This is a safe space. No judgements. No accusations. Only Truth.” Her gaze pinned Diane. “And truth yearns.”

Brianna trembled—prepped, primed—but Diane’s swallow was louder. The doctor’s pulse thrummed. Adrenaline. Not disgust. “Again,” she urged. “Slowly.”

Brianna leaned in—lips parted—and this time, Diane met her. The moan was soft, stifled, but Renworth’s pen clattered to the floor. Brianna’s fingers twisted in Diane’s blouse, pulling her closer, their mouths moving with hesitant hunger. Diane’s nails scored Brianna’s shoulder blades—claiming—before she broke away, gasping.

Renworth barely breathed. “Once more.”

This time, Diane lunged, hauling Brianna against her with a shattered moan. Their kisses turned ravenous—nibbling, biting, chasing—until Diane wrenched back, chest heaving. Her glare at Renworth was wildfire. “Happy now, Doctor Renworth?”

Rachel. Her name. The realization scorched through Renworth’s veins. Yes. She smiled, slow as dawn. “Call me Rachel.”